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Chapter 39 - 38

They arrived in Gael with time to spare. It was a smaller settlement than Peter had anticipated, comprised of roughly a dozen small buildings which time and weather had mostly leveled. A true ghost town. They filled their canteens somewhere on the outskirts and took turns throwing rocks at the rubble, competing for distance. Mindless things. 

When the temperature dropped shortly after sundown, they returned to their borrowed buckboard wagon and headed in to set up camp, which took its form in the crumbling bones of a creamery; it was missing a wall and most of its roof, but it blocked the eastward wind enough to keep the fire burning.

Ethos diligently saw to the horse while Peter made himself at home. It was nostalgic, them being together again. He admitted to missing the girls, how they'd fill the stretches of silence. Peter supposed he wasn't very talkative to begin with; Niobe had told him as much on occasion. Sidetracked, he thought of their encounter the day before. His back grew cold against the creamery wall.

Ethos returned and collapsed on his bed roll. "Wake me in spring."

"Oi, lay that out properly. You'll crush your stuff."

"Una tried to eat me today."

"Is that why my shirt's all torn up?"

"You should really know better than to lend me clothes by now." Ethos sat up and fed some crud to the fire. He hadn't dressed well for the cold, but then, he rarely did, rarely needed to. Kacha had put up enough of a stink to coax him into a second shirt and, remarkably, a pair of boots. He'd been smiling then, but he wasn't now. Now he mostly looked rawboned and tired, eyes reflecting the flames. His frightening shadow, antlered and vast, consumed the entire wall behind him. "Someone needs to watch her," he continued. "There's no telling what she'll do if we leave her to her own devices."

He was still on about Una. "Aye, sure," Peter said. "No telling."

Since the moment they'd met, Ethos had held a strange power over Peter. All it took was a glance sometimes; sometimes, a word. This time it was both. "I need you to forgive her."

"I have," Peter said. "That's not the problem."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I just don't like her anymore, is all."

Ethos smirked. "We all do things we don't like."

It sounded ominous coming from him. "Are you ready for this?"

He must have been tired of being asked, because rather than answer, he turned away to prep his bed roll. He reclined once he'd cleared a space and stayed like that for several minutes. But then he pointed— up, at the stars. "See that one there," he said. "That one's a planet."

Peter squinted. "Like Karna?"

"Sort of."

"How can you tell?"

"Harken just knows certain things."

Peter studied him and asked, "Hey, what's it like?"

Ethos glanced sideways. If he'd been annoyed, the feeling had passed. He never stayed angry. "It's gotten easier to isolate my thoughts from theirs," he said. "The headaches were worse."

"Do you still forget who you are sometimes?"

"Not exactly. It's just some overlay."

"Good." Peter paused, struck by a realization. "If you ever get the chance to kill Eadric, you know better than to do that to him, right?"

Ethos grinned, flashing white. "Afraid it'll make us enemies?"

He'd come back with that pretty fast. Peter glowered. "It's nothing to smile about."

The grin faded. After a moment, Ethos rolled over onto his side, away from Peter. "Don't worry," he muttered. "I have no intention of going down with him."

"I can't always tell what you're thinking."

"Right now I'm wishing he didn't exist."

"We can leave if you're having second thoughts."

"No. It's safer this way, to do it willingly."

"What do you reckon he wants?"

Ethos sighed and returned to his back, one arm tucked beneath his head. His knees bobbed about, uncertain. "He's always been a hard read," he said. "But I think he's angry. In a tight spot, maybe. So it'll either be a threat or an offer. It might depend on us."

"On us?"

"Sure. He'll have imagined several different outcomes for this gathering, and for each negative outcome he'll have devised a corresponding strategy to maintain control of the situation. He'll be watching our reactions and adjusting himself accordingly."

He spoke factually, and without hesitation. "Is that what you do?"

"I'm not nearly creative enough. That sort of thing comes with years of experience."

The fire popped between them. Peter stared at his hands; he'd been nervously whittling a stick without noticing it. "He could make you king," he murmured. "He has the authority."

"He doesn't want that for me, but I'd turn him down if he did."

Peter glanced up. "Can I ask why?"

"About which part?"

"Why you'd turn him down."

"Oh. I dunno. It doesn't appeal to me, I guess."

Peter chuckled, "You're the only soul in creation who'd say that."

"Maybe." Ethos closed his eyes and said, "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

A mild accusation. Peter stopped what he was doing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means maybe you'd see the other side of it if you didn't want the job so badly."

It took Peter a moment to process. "Oi, I didn't ask to be paired up with Una."

Ethos glanced, imparting a gleam of mischief. "You might not have asked for it, but you totally get off on being in charge," he leered. "Admit it. How often do you wish I'd keep my head down and stick to what I'm told? Every day? Twice a day? More? Less? More or less?"

"Uppity prick. Like me being king will get you to listen."

Ethos rose to an elbow. "Incentive is nice."

"Incentive, enough. I'm not Anouk."

"Are you coming on to me?"

"Is it cold in that bloodless heart of yours?"

"It's okay if you're coming on to me. I mean, I'm flattered, but— " He quickly ducked when Peter flung the whittled stick at him. He came up laughing behind the fire.

Peter pointed at him with the knife. "I do not get off on being in charge," he barked. "You're just scared and being a complete muckshit about it, same as always. Cut it out before I beat you."

Ethos subsided, still smiling. His eyes gradually fell to the fire. "Sorry."

Peter sat forward. "Can I ask you something?"

"Not if it's about Eadric."

"Why don't you want him to know?"

Ethos sent him a look. "Maybe because I'd be initiating a discussion with my greatest enemy about how I'm a near exact replica of the son he lost five centuries ago."

"He might already know that you know."

"Oh, he knows. Or he'll know that I know when he sees me. And if by some miracle he doesn't, he'll know soon enough. It's all but out in the open now." Ethos scoffed. His smile was unhappy, like it wasn't a smile at all. "Better for us both to pretend."

"It could make him more considerate of your position on the tono extermination."

Purposefully, Ethos tallied his fingers. "He beat the tar out of me back in Farwell," he said. "He set us up. He got people killed. He marked us. He played us. And he makes my skin crawl— worse even than that slimy Elmer Jenkins asshole. And that's hard to do." He stopped short, and, looking annoyed, added, "That last part was Oubi."

Peter tried not to smile. "Who's Elmer Jenkins?"

"A streetcomber, lived over on Ninth. Stop grinning at me."

"But you sound like a back alley thug of some sort."

Ethos scowled and unwrapped their bread. He tore off a piece. "Eadric's known about me from the start," he concluded. "The thought of having a heart-to-heart with him makes me want to puke."

Indeed, the scenario was a bizarre one. Resignedly, Peter confessed, "I get it."

Ethos glanced up in surprise. "Really?" he asked, dubious. "No fight?"

"Believe it or not, I don't actually enjoy butting heads with you."

He split into his usual grin. "You don't have to lie."

"Shut up and share that bread."

"Take first watch."

"Fine." The loaf was already sailing through the fire; Peter caught it somehow and even managed to not stab himself with his knife. Thinking it wise, he sheathed the blade. "I've got another question," he said. "Say we get through this; say we survive it all. What's the plan?"

Ethos frowned, head tilting, birdlike. "What do you mean?"

"I mean— say we reclaim Oldden. Una and I make it work. We rebuild." Peter stared at the fire for a moment, thinking, imagining. "You'll be there with us, right?" he asked, and he looked up at Ethos, to see his expression. "We're a team, you know. We'll want you there. You're smart about this stuff."

"Oh." Ethos shrugged a little. He suddenly looked uncomfortable. "First of all, it's not like I want you in Oldden," he said. "Try not to forget that particular detail."

Peter blinked. "But it was your idea."

"It was Eadric's idea."

"But you're implementing it."

"I'm assisting you with the transition." Ethos returned to his back, eyes on the stars. "It's going to happen regardless of what I want," he explained. "I knew that even before we met. I'm just doing what I can to make the process easier for you, such as it is."

Peter studied the side of his face. "But you'll stay with us, right?"

Ethos smiled over at him, a little bit crooked, teasing. "Why, would you miss me?"

"Don't be cute. Of course I'd miss you."

"But not enough to hand over Karna to someone more qualified." He was quiet while Peter reeled for an answer, still smiling thinly. "I put Kacha in a similar position once," he went on. "It's like you all want to go against fate, but can't. I've stopped fighting it."

Peter bristled. "You're avoiding the question."

Ethos was calm as glass. "Sure, Peter," he said. "I'll be there."

It was the answer he'd wanted, but Peter couldn't help but feel cheated somehow. He averted his eyes and cleared his throat, fingertips lodged in the bread. "Good," he grumbled, making light of it. "I'd be bored without you around to make messes for me."

"You'd be a good woman."

"You're the woman." Peter climbed to his feet. He dropped the bread on his bedroll, frowned at it, and then drew his coat tightly around him. "I'll be back."

The night was colder than Peter remembered, gusty without the structure to shield him. Chilled, he turned up his collar against the wind and circled the weary building. Their mare was there, blanketed, hitched; she ignored him as he took a leak on the creamery wall, breath steaming around his face.

Ethos was nervous, that much was clear. He'd never been quite so obvious about it. A part of Peter liked that, seeing him humanized, but another part, a larger part, was finally realizing just how much he depended on Ethos to be the unshakable one. The thought of losing that crutch was terrifying.

He stopped by the borrowed buckboard to fish a whiskey out of the flatbed. The burlap was coated in frost; he threw it back, expecting luggage.

Alyce was there, a finger at her lips. "D-Don't be mad."

She was trembling from the cold, lacking color. Peter sighed. "You're freezing."

"I'm f-fine," she insisted, beneath her breath. "S-S-Stupid."

"I'm not stupid. You're stupid. Grab that bottle next to you and take my hand."

She complied, sniffling, and allowed him to carefully draw her out. "S-Stupid," she stuttered in his ear, regardless. "Your fault for d-d-ditching me."

He carried her in, patting her back. The mare watched them go. Ethos glanced up from the fire as they entered, unsurprised. He'd heard them. The antlered shadow on the wall behind him glanced a split second later. "Look what I found," Peter said. "A proper dinner."

Ethos smiled as he set her down. "She's too bony," he teased. "Throw her back."

Alyce quietly thawed by the fire, hands hovering over the heat. Peter could tell that she was trying to avoid looking at Ethos, but, eventually, she did. She said, "I'm hungry."

His smile spread. "Want some bread?"

A quick nod. "Yes, please."

"Here, have mine. Peter manhandled his."

They settled in for the night, warmed. Peter took first watch without protest. The solitude was nice; the open sky, the silence, the wind. The popping fire. He thought about what Ethos had said, how fate had set a course for them— a course they'd stay no matter the squalls. It seemed easy then, to blame it.

He didn't bother waking Ethos when the time came for his shift to end. He wasn't as desperate for sleep. He just drank and sketched the whole scene out, feeding the fire now and again to keep it alive through the night. Alyce looked pleased to be with Ethos, and she had every right to; he was a supreme winter comfort, running at temperatures well beyond reason. He drew them, too, taking care to get it right, to capture the moment, just as it was. His notebook felt heavy.

Dawn came like a slow, bloody tide. Peter tucked his things away and crept to the other side of the camp. Ethos was curled around Alyce, brow furrowed as if in thought. Peter shook his shoulder. "Oi," he said, perhaps too softly. "Oi, wake up. Wake up."

Ethos tensed, saw it was him, and slumped. "Stop shouting."

"I'm not, you twit. I figured you'd rather I wake you than Eadric."

His eyes slid back to Peter. "That's not funny."

Peter grinned. "No?"

"No." Ethos sat up and rubbed his face. "You let me sleep through my shift," he realized, and he looked at Peter anew, half-squinting. His hair was sticking up on one side. "Were you up all night?"

"I wasn't tired." Peter held up his drink, an offering. "Courage?"

Ethos blankly stared at it. "What?"

"Have some."

"But it's, like, really early."

"Aye, and he could be here at any moment."

Some of the confusion bled out of his eyes. Begrudgingly, unenthused, he took the dented tin from Peter's fingers. "Right," he sighed. "I guess I could do with some courage."

"There's a good man," Peter said, ruffling his bedhead. "Go on and finish it off."

Ethos smiled into the cup, messed. "Are you on a bender, Peter?"

"A small one, aye. To calm the nerves."

"Can't say I blame you." Ethos drank and took a deep breath, the sort one took when a drink was strong. After a moment, he closed his eyes. "Noon," he said, softly. "They depart the forest at noon, and we can't miss the drop or they'll go on without us. That gives us about an hour to wrap this up and ride north to the extraction point." He purposefully looked at Peter. "Is that understood?"

Peter nodded, taken aback by his seriousness. "We'll make it."

"An hour, Peter. No later. Don't forget."

Alyce suddenly yawned and rolled over. "He's here."

Peter immediately looked at the doorway, but Ethos just asked, "Where?"

"Outside," Alyce answered, stiffly stretching and rising. "A stone's throw to the east."

One by one, they each found a crack in the wall to peer through. Eadric was a silhouette out there, admiring the sunrise, hands in his pockets, and for the first time, Peter really saw Hans Redbeard, saw the reality, the beast they'd awakened. Whatever twist of nature it was that made Ethos different from the Ethos of the past, that man was still his father. Redbeard the Righteous. The Founder. The First.

Silence for a while. Alyce whispered, "Should we go out there?"

"I don't know," Peter said, glancing sidelong. "Ethos?"

Ethos had his shoulder against the wall, one eye filled with ochre dawnlight. "It's a nice sunrise," he admitted, blandly. "He knows where we are. He'll come when he's done."

Sure enough, Eadric turned and meandered toward them, in shadow. Alyce returned to the fire and surveyed the camp's strewn items. She scratched at her ribs and wondered, "Where's the water?"

Ethos withdrew from the crack. He looked like he was about to speak, but instead he sank against the wall, quiet until he felt Alyce glaring. "Check my stuff," he said, pointing. "That bag there."

Peter stood. Pulse in his throat, he gestured for Ethos to do the same. "Get up."

Arms folded, knees risen, Ethos kept his eyes low. "I'm fine."

"You look like you're sulking. Just get up."

Ethos replied with a mild glare, but a sound from the entryway intervened. It was Eadric, forearm on the crumbling doorframe. He flashed a smile and asked, "You camped out for me?"

"Obviously," Ethos retorted. "Tell me what I'm doing here."

Eadric entered and sat on Peter's bedroll. He warmed his palms against the fire. "This is nice," he remarked. "Is there food? Steak and eggs? Home fries?"

"Not for dead men who don't need to eat."

"How rude. I'm not dead."

"What am I even supposed to call you?"

Blithely, he shrugged. "Eadric's what my mother called me."

"Eadric, then. Did you invent Hans Redbeard?"

It was a strange question. Peter had to force himself quiet. But Eadric was smiling shrewdly again, eyes gleaming with private amusement. "Karna presented a rare opportunity," he said. "We reinvented ourselves for the natives. Redbeard was our solution to Alma, whose beauty and power were second to none." His eyes suddenly jumped to Peter. "Sit," he said. "I dislike being stood over."

"A fleetwide conspiracy," Ethos mused. "That's quite the accomplishment."

Eadric didn't reply until Peter sat. Satisfied, he readdressed Ethos. "I'll let you in on a little secret," he said, and he whispered behind his hand. "There was no fleet."

Ethos stared blankly at him. "No fleet?"

"We came on a single ship. The Monolith." Eadric studied him carefully. "It was a transport vessel intended for the prison island of Thundering Rock," he said. "I was among six hundred and forty-two inmates that parliament saw fit to exile."

"Exile," Peter cut in. "What did you do?"

They glanced at the same time, eerily unexpressioned. Eadric spoke first. "An evil man broke into my home," he explained. "He stole what little I'd earned and murdered my wife and daughter. I hunted him down and made him watch as I returned the favor."

Silence fell thickly. Ethos cleared his throat. "Karna's no penal colony," he said. "Something must have happened out there to knock you off course."

"A storm," Eadric admitted. "We sat in our confines for days and waited to be swallowed up." His gaze moved about and stopped on Alyce. "By the time the skies cleared we found ourselves in uncharted territory," he said. "I broke free shortly after, seized the hand of the guard that fed me and beat his face against the bars. Our unit was first, home of the Five. We took the ship a block at a time, and before I realized it myself, I was leader of a criminal army. Together we slaughtered our terrified jailers." Eadric was unsmiling. He turned back to Ethos. "None of the equipment worked," he said, sounding exhausted by it. "The nautical charts, the star charts— none of it made sense. We'd fallen off the map. But my people were looking to me for direction, so I chose one at random."

Ethos was staring again. Not so blank as before. "And you found Karna."

"You once asked me why I called this place an island. Do you remember?" Eadric waited for him to nod. "The country that I come from is over one hundred times its size," he said. "One hundred times, understand. Try to imagine that."

"I heard you ordered it scuttled, your ship."

Eadric was steady as a hammer. "This island is special. It needs protection."

"You care more for the island than you do for its people."

"Yes," Eadric said. "I don't deny that."

Eadric wasn't the only one who'd grown gradually serious. Ethos was regarding him with quiet resentment. "Michael and his battalion are in my custody," he said. "I'll have them killed if my scouts see your second blackhound approaching."

Eadric matched his expression. "A lie."

"Why, because I'm protecting the tono? Try me."

Something croaked in the silence; a crow, perched high above them. Eadric watched Ethos through the fire. "How many tono are left?" he asked. "Fifty?"

Breezily, Ethos lied, "Sixty-eight."

"Too many to fit on the Battlefrost ship." 

"I can dismantle the tracking system on the Nautilus."

"My blackhound's no use to you. You have no handlers to run the hold."

"And no crew to tend the canvas, I know. Unless I cut a deal with the Battlefrosts."

Eadric smiled— just a little. "And what would you have me do to prevent that?"

"I'm marooned out here with my injured and dead. You tell me." They stared at one another for a few long moments. "Turn your other blackhound around," Ethos eventually said, voice quiet. "We both know you have better uses for it."

"You can't hold your position forever."

"And you can't keep throwing men at us. You're at war."

An impasse, it seemed. Eadric's eyes moved to the antlered shadow and back. "You're right," he agreed. "It's inconvenient. There are too many moving parts." He calmly rose to his feet and felt through his pockets, head bent. "Alyce," he said. "Time to go. Grab your things."

Alyce stood and circled the fire. Peter caught her arm to stop her. "Oi," he barked. "Where do you think you're going?" 

Ethos said Peter's name. He hadn't moved, but his shoulders had stiffened. "Let her go," Ethos instructed. "This was never about negotiating."

"No," Eadric agreed. "Did you come here knowing that?"

Ethos managed a small, clever smile. "Does that make you nervous?"

"Being smart isn't always a good thing, Ethos." Metal flashed— the coin that had transported them to the midlands. With a flick of Eadric's thumb, it sailed across room, and the wall sucked it in like a sheet hung to dry, crumbling stone and curling timber: creation fabric. A great hole yawned and yielded darkness, large enough to step into. "Too many moving parts," Eadric repeated, gesturing. "You clearly can't be allowed to run free."

Ethos glanced at it, a turn of the head. "Where does it go?"

Peter was suddenly on his feet, but he didn't remember rising. "Hold on just a second!"

Freed, Alyce returned to Eadric. One of his spidery long-fingered hands brought her in close by the shoulder. "Stand down, Peter," he said. "I won't hurt anyone if we all keep calm."

Ethos stood to stop Peter from lunging. "We don't win this," he said, and his eyes were restless, quietly firm. "I need you to remember your priorities."

Peter hissed, "Why did we come here if you knew what would happen?"

"It didn't matter if we came or not," he answered. "That's the point. I'd rather it be in the dark like this than out in public." Ethos gently seized Peter's arm, sensing resistance. "Relax," he said. "It won't be forever. Calm down."

"This is bullshit. How am I supposed to— "

"Remember what we talked about, Peter. Don't you dare come after me."

Harsh words, and they'd be the last of it. Ethos was like that sometimes. Half-turned toward the gate, he backed away and looked sideways at Alyce. She was gazing at him like she always did, as if he were more than he was. She gave a small nod and he smiled again, privately this time, and then entered the menacing darkness. The gate pinwheeled shut behind him. 

With a sound like metal, the coin rang back into Eadric's hand. Aloud, he remarked, "That went far better than I anticipated."

Peter sat, feeling lightheaded. "What are you going to do to him?"

"Avoid his presence, if I can help it," Eadric replied. "I'll release him when the tono are all dead and gone. He and his mother will destroy one another like nature intended."

"And you're okay with that?"

Eadric paused in the act of leaving. He was silent at first, and humorless. "I often wish they didn't exist." And then, horribly, he grinned. "Good luck in the days ahead."

Gone, Alyce with him. The crow croaked.